ORCS: Army of Shadows Read Online Free PDF Page A

somehow.”
    “It’s possible. Again, it turns on what they believe.”
    “Omens, prophecies, a lost warlike temperament; you’re seeing too much in this, Grentor.”
    “Perhaps. But isn’t it better to be prepared?”
    “Planning for contingencies is good military practice, agreed. But you’re petitioning the wrong person. Our lady Jennesta
     holds all the cards now.”
    Grentor tugged at the general’s sleeve and nodded to the carriage’s window. “Talking of which…”
    “At last,” Hacher sighed.
    Jennesta was returning. She wasn’t alone. Three of her personal bodyguards were with her. They were human. Or had been. Considered
     challengers to her power, they had been consigned by Jennesta’s sorcery to an undead state and made utterly obedient slaves.
     Their eyes were set and glassy, and lacked any vestige of benevolence. Such skin as could be seen was stretched tight, and
     was of an unwholesome, parchment-like colour. The zombies were combat-dressed, in black leather and steel-toed boots, and
     they were armed with scimitars. One of them carried a steel-banded chest.
    Hacher and Grentor were out of the carriage when the little procession arrived. Close to, the zombies stank, and the elder
     had his kerchief out again.
    “Were your endeavours successful, ma’am?” the general asked.
    Jennesta shot him a look laced with suspicion before replying, “Yes. The energy is particularly strong here, and of a…
flavour
I find gratifying.”
    She turned away from them to supervise the loading of the trunk into her carriage. From the way she scolded her minions it
     obviously contained something significant. Not that Hacher or Grentor would have dared ask what.
    For his part, Hacher was glad that whatever she had undertaken seemed to have gone well. He thought it might improve her temperament.
     It was a hope swiftly crushed.
    Satisfied that her precious cargo was safely stowed, Jennesta brought her attention back to the pair. “I’m displeased,” she
     announced.
    “Oh?” Hacher responded. “I thought —”
    “Don’t. It doesn’t become you. There’s been more trouble on the streets. Why?”
    “A minority inciting the rabble, ma’am. Nothing more.”
    “Then why can’t you stamp it out?”
    “With respect, we can’t be everywhere. The territory the imperial forces have to cover —”
    “It’s nothing to do with numbers, General, as you said yourself. It’s what you do with those you have. These upstarts should
     be hit hard. I know orcs and their inherent savagery, and I’ve always found that brutality is the best course in a situation
     like this.”
    “If I may be so bold, my lady,” Grentor ventured hesitantly. “Isn’t it possible that harsher action might further aggravate
     the insurgents?”
    “Not if they’re dead,” she replied coldly. “You seem particularly dense on this subject, Elder. You both do. The equation’s
     simple: rebellious heads rear up; we cut them off. What’s so hard to understand about that?”
    Grentor was anxiously fingering his string of beads and summoning the nerve to say something more.
    “
Wait
,” Jennesta said, stilling them with a raised hand. She looked up, an expression of concentration on her face, as though she
     heard something they couldn’t.
    They stood in silence for what seemed an eternity. Grentor and Hacher began to wonder if this was another of Jennesta’s eccentricities.
     Or, knowing her, the prelude to unpleasantness.
    Something swooped out of the darkness. They thought it was a bird. A hawk, perhaps, or a raven. But when it came to rest on
     Jennesta’s outstretched arm they saw it had only the superficial appearance of a bird. In subtle but noticeable ways it was
     like no bird that ever flew. It had the look of magic about it.
    The creature moved along her arm and chirruped gutturally into Jennesta’s ear. She listened intently. When it finished she
     made a gesture, as though brushing a speck of dust from her